


What I've Done

by NyxErchomai



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Has Nightmares, Child Murder, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 14:09:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6960232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxErchomai/pseuds/NyxErchomai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Would you forgive me for that? Could you?”</p><p>Bucky's nightmares lead to difficult conversations with Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What I've Done

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: duuuude. Plz write me some Steve x Bucky angst. (like them talking about the winter soldier)

Bucky is dreaming. His body is rigid, every muscle straining, and he’s covered in a sheen of sweat that reflects the dim light from outside. The gentle serenity that sleeps brings to his features is broken, sporadically, by sharp convulsions; his lip curls back in one instant, and the next he is frowning. But worst of all are the _noises_ , the small groans and the pained whines that burst out of him. Every whimper hits Steve like a whip, lashing him mercilessly. His heart weighs heavy in his chest as he lets the nightmare ride its course. Waking Bucky isn’t an option; the last time he tried, Bucky threw him across the room. It took days for the bruises to disappear, and weeks for Bucky to forgive himself.

Steve sits up and takes his leave, slipping silently out of the room. He might not be able to stop it, but he cannot bear to stay and be a helpless witness to Bucky’s pain. He smiles and nods to the bodyguard in the hallway, and she bows her head in response. This is not the first time they’ve exchanged nods in the middle of the night.

Navigating the palace’s labyrinthine hallways had once been impossible for Steve but now, even in the dark, he finds his way around easily. He stops in their kitchen and pours himself some orange juice, before flopping down in the sofa across the way. The huge windows are black now, but during the day he would be able to see over the entire jungle without getting up from this chair. Tonight, he flicks the television on and stares mindlessly at the screen, where a cartoon caveman appears to be bowling.

_Bucky is screaming. He’s on the ground, covered in blood and he’s screaming. And Steve is trying to reach him, running at him as fast as he can, but Bucky gets further and further away and now Steve is screaming –_

Steve wakes with a jolt, wincing as the sudden movement unsticks his sweaty skin from the leather sofa. In a moment of confusion he doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t understand why he’s awake, what woke him, who is _screaming_ –?

Bucky.

Frantic, Steve lunges to his feet, but his muscles haven’t woken yet and he knocks the entire sofa over. he scrambles over it, collides with the wall across the hall, knows he’s left a dent even as he takes off again. The guard is gone from the hallway, and the door to Steve’s room is open.

He barrels through the doorway, is by Bucky’s side in an instant. Bucky is still asleep, his nightmare in full swing.

“Leave,” Steve snaps at the bodyguard standing at the foot of the bed. Her blade is half-drawn, but her hold is loose on it. “Please,” he says, softly.  The blade snaps back into its sheath and she’s gone without a sound.

Bucky’s head is thrown back, his neck muscles taut, and he’s whimpering. Steve swallows the lump in his throat and reaches out. He’ll take being thrown across a room again if it means he can stop this.

“Bucky,” he says, softly, touching Bucky’s feverish skin lightly. “Bucky, wake up.” When nothing happens, he gives Bucky a gentle shake. “Buck, please.”

Bucky thrashes for a moment and Steve waits it out, grimacing. As soon as Bucky stills, he grips his shoulder firmly and, with a deep breath, shakes him sharply. “Bucky!” He says it loudly this time, like an order.

“ANNA!” Bucky screams as he wakes, and Steve is suddenly jerked forward before being launched backwards. He collides with the chest of drawers and slumps to the ground with a groan. He takes a moment to collect himself, before rushing to Bucky’s side.

Bucky’s eyes are open, but the blankness expression on his face when he looks at Steve is like a punch to the gut.

Moving slowly, Steve reaches out but doesn’t touch. “Bucky…?”

There’s a moment, a stretch that threatens to stop Steve’s heart in his goddamn chest, and then Bucky blinks and he’s back.

“S-Steve,” he says and then he crumples. Steve catches him, wraps his arms as far around Buck as possible, squeezes him so tightly he could break. Bucky is shaking violently as he sobs silently. Steve wants to say something, _anything_ , but he can’t think of anything that could possibly make any of this better. So he just presses kisses into Bucky’s hair and waits.

~*~*~

Bucky isn’t crying anymore. Hasn’t been for a while now. But his arms, wrapped so tightly around Steve, refuse to let go. He can feel Steve’s heartbeat against his own chest, calming him slowly. _It wasn’t real. Just a nightmare. He’s okay now. He’s okay now. He’s okay now._

He feels Steve stiffen slightly, and realizes belatedly that it must be uncomfortable for him, kneeling by the bed like he is. Pulling back, Bucky gestures for Steve to get up on the bed with him. Steve complies, climbing over him and propping himself against the headboard. He laughs slightly when Bucky immediately curls into him again.

“I’m sorry I threw you again,” Bucky murmurs. His eyes ache from crying, and he just wants to sleep.

Steve slips his arm around Bucky’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing circles into his skin. “I can take it,” he says, a wry smile playing at his lips.

Guilt washes over Bucky. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“Why not?” Steve retorts. “I love you.”

He’s heard it a hundred times, but the words still pierce Bucky’s heart like a goddamn spear. His eyes burn with the threat of more tears.

He says nothing, couldn’t bring himself to speak even if he wanted to. Steve doesn’t mind, and they sit in sleepy silence for a few moments.

Then Steve stiffens again. Bucky, whose eyes are leaden, forces them open to look up at his boyfriend.

“What is it?”

Steve looks away, chewing at his lip. After a second he sighs. “You said a name.”

It’s Bucky’s turn to stiffen, and he pulls away.

“Stop,” Steve says, easing him back. “It’s okay, I’m not going to ask. I told you I wouldn’t make you talk about it.”

Bucky relaxes, but only minutely. 

“What name?” he croaks, after a stretch of tense silence. “What – whose name?”

If Steve is surprised, he doesn’t show it. “Anna.”

Bucky sits suddenly, so Steve can’t see his face. “Oh.” He trains his voice to stay level. Doesn’t say it any particular way. _Oh._

“Bucky?” When Steve’s hand touches his back, Bucky flinches.

“Don’t ask!” he snaps angrily. Then, as suddenly as it came, the anger leeches out of him. “Please, Steve. Do not ask.”

“I told you I never would,” Steve repeats. “But…” he pauses, considering. “Sam says talking about it helps. And I won’t ask, but – but if you ever want to talk… I’m here.”

“You’d hate me,” Bucky says, voice cracking. “If you knew – you’d hate me.”

Steve pulls Bucky’s shoulder, forces him to look at him. “Never.”

Bucky wipes his eyes furiously, sniffing. “You don’t know that. You don’t know what I’ve done.”

They’ve been over this a hundred times. It wasn’t you. You’re not responsible. I don’t blame you. I forgive you. It changes nothing.

“Then trust me,” Steve says softly. “Trust me to love you, no matter what. I promise you, nothing you say could ever–”

“She was a child!” Bucky blurts suddenly, furiously. Steve’s mouth snaps shut in surprise. Bucky smiles humorlessly and turns away. “Would you forgive me for that? Could you?”

“What… happened?” Steve asks, slowly.

“There was a scientist that HYDRA needed. I don’t know why. But he wouldn’t co-operate, so they sent me to… persuade him. He had a daughter. She was fifteen, maybe sixteen. And whatever it was he was protecting from HYDRA, it was more important to him than his daughter.” Bucky pauses, and the weight of the grief in his voice is overwhelming. “I killed her, Steve. They told me to put a bullet in her brain, and I did.”

“HYDRA did it,” Steve corrects him gently. “They brainwashed you, tortured you, _made_ you do it. Why can’t you see that?”

Bucky’s jaw clenches. “Because I’m the one who has the nightmares,” he says dully. “ _I’m_ the one who remembers her face right before she – right before I murdered her. She was crying, begging–” he stops himself, swallows heavily. “You think that there’s a line between me and him, the Soldier. There isn’t. Brainwashed or not, it was _my_ hands that pulled the trigger. I’m the one who has to live with their faces.”

Steve doesn’t say anything. Can’t say anything. What would he say? I’m sorry they made you do that? I’m sorry that you remember it? He is helpless in the face of Bucky’s trauma. His pain is so expansive, so immense… what could _he_ possibly say that could make a difference?

“Tell Sam he’s full of shit,” Bucky says with a low, mirthless laugh. He swings out of bed, pauses in the doorway. “Talking about it never fucking helps.”

**Author's Note:**

> What you don't know can't hurt you, Steve.


End file.
